


One Hundred Seconds to Midnight

by never_the_rose



Category: Doctor Who, Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Aliens, Arguing, Asexual Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Bickering, Canon Compliant, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Cybermen - Freeform, Daleks - Freeform, Doctor Who Feels, Doctor Who References, Eighth Doctor - Freeform, Enemies to Friends, Episode: s07e01 Asylum of the Daleks, Explosions, First Kiss, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Gen, Getting Together, It's Doctor Who Y'all, Logince - Freeform, M/M, Moceit - Freeform, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pop Culture, Remus Sanders Is His Own Warning, Romance, Running, Sex Jokes, Sontarans - Freeform, Swearing, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Dark Sides (Sanders Sides), Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Time Lords, Trust, Trust Issues, Twelfth Doctor - Freeform, Vashta Narada - Freeform, Weeping Angels - Freeform, blasters, how much sarcasm is too much sarcasm?, river song - Freeform, so much running, the Master - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29809656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/never_the_rose/pseuds/never_the_rose
Summary: All Roman wanted to do was take Logan on a Doctor Who LARP within the Imagination.But with Thomas's Sides at their figurative breaking point after the disastrous wedding, the Imagination may just have a few ideas of her own...
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 22
Kudos: 16





	1. The Eleventh Hour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PeritwinkleInYourIris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeritwinkleInYourIris/gifts), [mad4him76](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad4him76/gifts).



> Hello, all, it's been a bit :) 
> 
> Allow me to fetch my Janus gloves and cape, because I am about to irrevocably make a liar out of my I-Don't-Write-Fanfiction self.
> 
> So this idea came about in a twitter conversation from September of last year, where we were talking about which Sides would play whom in a Doctor Who universe. Some brainstorming yielded a legitimate premise for a story, and I told myself that once Mahogany and Teakwood was completely up, I would write this. I'm a bit of a Doctor Who fan...if that wasn't obvious from the several sonics I own, the books on my shelf, the exploding TARDIS card holder in my purse, and the fact that I drive a blue Fit with Who themed stickers all over it...*coughs* :D
> 
> I gave myself a few parameters for this fic. 
> 
> Firstly, as I wrote it specifically as a gift for my lovely friends Erin and Mary Ann, I centered it around their favorite ships (which I hope I've done justice to). I also wanted this to move like a proper Doctor Who episode: lots of running, banter, some heavy moments but overall, this is meant to be a fun little romp that also deals with some of the canon problems the characters have been facing up until now. My third parameter was keeping it as Sanders-canon compliant as possible (apart from the ships)...and more challengingly, keeping things just vague enough so it will *stay* canon compliant even after future episodes have aired.
> 
> (The Who canon I admittedly played fast and loose with. Personal headcanons abound...)
> 
> I'm planning to keep the same posting schedule from before: every Saturday and every Wednesday, a new chapter will go up.
> 
> This fic isn't beta-ed, so if you happen to catch any errors or typos that I've missed, please let me know! 
> 
> Enjoy the ride!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman takes Logan into the Dream Palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music: [Once Upon a Nightmare by Epica](https://open.spotify.com/track/79mCoY7jGgQQR0vO5uP8a6?si=SCs9ILasTEmKCzoSNKj8eQ)

_“Who are you?”_  
_“I don’t know yet. I’m still cooking.”_

Midnight.

The witching hour.

 _Or was that 3AM?_ Roman wondered. _No, that’s the devil’s hour…damn it, Virgil! You had to get them all mixed up!_

It was nearly midnight on the Imagination’s border. 

Moonlight, pearlescent and brighter than it could ever shine in the real world, streamed feather-light through the tall windows on Roman’s side of the Dream Palace. It made patterns of light and shadow over the black marble floors, made nighttime caricatures of the white ivory statues that lined the corridor. 

Roman’s heeled boots echoed in the silence; Logan’s dress shoes, in comparison, were whisper-quiet. 

Logan himself had been uncharacteristically quiet since they entered this place, Roman noted, glancing back. Normally by now the logical Side would have asked a million questions, made a million plans, or be several bullet points into a lecture about palace construction or the history of measurement units or some other nerdy, obscure subject. 

And Roman would either pretend to be annoyed, or would interject witty counterpoints to make Logan stop and bluster and…

But not tonight.

 _Maybe he’s nervous about being here_ , Roman told himself, smoothing a hand over his red sash. _He’s only pointed out a million times that Logic and the Imagination are anathema to one another. Maybe I should have planned something else…_

 _Or maybe he’s just annoyed at you for dragging him out of bed in the literal middle of the night_ , a more insidious inner voice whispered. _When you know he likes to keep a consistent sleep schedule._

Roman pressed his lips together, lifted his chin…he might be a mere facet of a single personality, but he was also a Prince, and Princes do not listen to inner demons. However, he also looked back for the dozenth time to make sure Logan was actually still following.

That was the _only_ reason Roman kept looking back. 

It had nothing to do with the way the translucent moonlight caught the other Side’s dark, immaculately kept hair, or glinted off his glasses.

In the real world, of course, and whenever they manifested near their Source, the Sides all had precisely the same face and body as Thomas. But deep inside the mind, where physical appearance was an illusion anyway, the Sides exercised much more control. 

Thomas remained their base template, but each Side also tended to portray himself with features that Thomas associated with their core function. Like Patton’s fluffy curls and childlike freckles, or Virgil’s anxious, ever-changing eyeshadow, or Remus’s _abominable_ comic-book villain mustache. 

Like Deceit’s…no, _Janus’s_ very real scales.

_Damn that snake. Why did I have think of him now?_

Hopefully the lying bananaconda had better things to do than pop up and spoil things tonight. Because tonight, Roman was finally fulfilling a longtime promise to Logan, and taking him on a grand adventure.

The thought made his heart flutter in anticipation, and he looked back again.

Logan within the mindscape was leaner than Thomas, an inch or two taller, and his neatly trimmed hair and intelligent eyes were almost black in the low light. His face was narrow and intense, the nose more aquiline, and he had a habit of standing straighter than any of the rest of them. 

(A habit which constantly showed off his trim waist and chest muscles…not that Roman paid _any_ attention to that…)

Roman, by contrast, was a bit shorter, but his shoulders were broad and he was more muscular, due to all the questing and sword fighting he did here in the Imagination. He wore his hair in longish disarray that paired devastatingly with his clean, square jawline; hair that could be turned loose and wild on quests, or pulled neatly back as befitted royalty. His hands were strong; with long, artistic fingers, as skilled at wielding pens and paintbrushes as they were at wielding swords.

He liked to think he was handsome. 

He was also painfully aware of how little it mattered when a certain _someone_ … _ehem_ …never seemed to notice.

“Roman, I confess to still being a bit lost as to the purpose of this journey,” Logan said at last, breaking the high-ceilinged silence. “You said you were taking us on a…’lark’? If so, why are we wandering around the Dream Palace?”

“LARP,” Roman corrected, flashing him a smile. “L-A-R-P. It stands for live action role play, Specs.”

Logan’s nose wrinkled at the words “role play”, and Roman’s stomach lurched. _He hates it, he hates the very idea of it, you haven’t even started yet and you’ve already failed…_

“Oh, don’t make the scrunchy face!” he added, a bit louder than necessary, and waved a hand. “At least wait until you’ve seen it.”

Roman had only been planning this for weeks.

“You know, when you promised to take me on one of your ‘adventures’,” Logan said, making finger quotes. “I was not expecting to be roused from bed in the middle of the night.”

“That’s because this isn’t your average adventure.” Roman gestured around them. “I constructed a special dreamscape to get all the details right, and we can only use the Dream Palace when Thomas is asleep.” He turned and dared a wink. “Only the best for you, my detail-oriented friend.”

Logan adjusted his glasses. 

“Let it be known that I am indulging your antics right now because you have, on occasion, had some good ideas. You will, in turn, have to indulge my skepticism.”

“I have no idea what you just said, but I’m gonna pretend it was a compliment,” Roman said with a wink, which Logan rolled his eyes at. 

“Ah ha, here we are!” 

Roman stopped at a set of iconic blue doors, nearly vibrating in excitement as he waited for Logan to recognize them. 

The nerd did not disappoint.

“Roman…” Logan murmured, stepping forward to touch the white PULL TO OPEN sign. “They look just like the doors to the TARDIS. The attention to detail is exquisite. But why?”

“Because I’m taking you on a Doctor Who LARP!” Roman exclaimed, flapping his hands. “All we have to do is step through, and the Imagination will make us Doctor and companion, and whisk us away through all of time and space!”

Logan’s face was a mixture of confusion and curiosity. “Again…why?”

“Because it will be fun?” Roman bit his lip, looking at his toes. “I…I know you aren’t into swords and sorcery and dragon-witches and whatnot. I wanted this to be something you might actually enjoy.”

Logan’s brow furrowed, as it often did when he tried to process something that didn’t fit neatly into his graphed, notated, logical worldview. 

Usually, it was an emotion.

“But won’t us enacting such an intense scenario at this time of night negatively affect Thomas’s sleep?” Logan asked.

“That’s the genius of adventuring in the Dream Palace,” Roman explained. “You can do hyperreal, immersive stuff, and if Thomas _does_ happen to remember anything, he’ll just think he had a weird dream. The worst that could happen is he might post about it on Twitter.”

“Hmm. I can see you’ve thought this through. I am…flattered that you went to all the trouble,” Logan said in a quiet voice.

Roman had to bite back an ecstatic giggle. 

Not…not because of the way his nerves skittered below his skin when his gaze caught Logan’s black eyes and soft expression. No, Roman was merely…excited! That someone like Logan appreciated his hard work!

It wasn’t like he was trying to _impress_ anyone, like some middle school boy with, you know, a _crush_ or whatever. For the last, well…two years.

…and then some.

 _Ugh_. There was little point in denying his feelings; he’d only accidentally summon Janus and his oily smirk, and if that happened, Roman would most certainly die of embarrassment and that was _not_ a lie, thank you very much. 

The truth was, ever since Thomas had placed that jar of Crofters into Logan’s hands and inspired him to sing…not just rap, or begrudgingly harmonize, but actually _sing_ …Roman had fallen, and fallen hard. 

How could he not? 

Logan’s words and ideas had always challenged him, pushed him to be smarter, sharper, _better_ , just to keep up. Logan was the grounding anchor to his sails, the clarity to his excess. It used to infuriate Roman, the way he and Logan always came at problems from opposite sides and fought, sometimes bitterly, over the best way to meet in the middle. 

But now? 

Now Roman relished the way they traded words in a good fight, like blades in the hands of expert swordsmen. Logan, despite his dislike for anything fanciful, was a natural wordsmith…and Roman was a great lover of poetry. Even better, it seemed like Logan was also starting to enjoy their verbal sparring matches…

And then these last few months had happened. 

The Decision, and Deceit, and the way that snake had let Remus out of the shadows to wreck havoc, and then the disastrous wedding itself…and Roman knew that Logan, through all of it, had been feeling pushed aside. 

Goodness knew the logical Side hadn’t deserved to be shoved to the back of a courtroom, or relegated to a pixel-y shadow of himself before being removed from the discussion entirely. Worse, in both of those scenarios, Roman had either done nothing…or actively made things worse. 

Roman knew he was guilty of letting his mouth run wild in his zeal to solve Thomas’s dilemmas…or in desperately hiding his true feelings. He knew his nicknames often came with barbs, his insults sometimes hit too close to home, that he often ignored or dismissed Logan’s cool, much-needed perspective. 

He knew he needed to be better.

 _I’ll make it up to him tonight_ , Roman told himself as he laid a hand on the rough wooden blue doors and glanced back at Logan. The logical Side nodded, giving Roman a tiny burst of confidence. 

_He’ll get to play his favorite character and be his best nerdy self. This is going to be great!_

Roman took a breath, and shoved open the TARDIS doors.


	2. Human Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan is a natural Doctor, Roman complains about a wardrobe change, and someone unexpected enters the adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music: [Higher by Edenbridge](https://open.spotify.com/track/1nqalcEAA9ZaAkmkQ7oYjj?si=hksaSH-ITOKyPpu0dMCEEw)

_“It’s all becoming clear now. The Doctor is doing the things you’d like to be doing.”_

The blaring of a dozen sirens burst in Logan’s ears. 

He was yanked across the threshold, Roman’s hand practically a vice around his wrist. Logan inhaled the sharp scent of metal and warm electronics, and a million figurative lights went off in his brain.

Being the physical incarnation of Logic, this wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar sensation. 

The TARDIS shuddered… _wait, TARDIS? We’re actually_ on _the TARDIS?_ …under impact. Lights flashed; reds and greens over an ambiance of steely blue-gray, and Logan knew exactly what to do. 

He shook free of Roman’s grip and strode to the center console… _console, how do I know this is a console?_ …flipping several switches and turning the green dial to precisely 3.56 degrees to offset the radiation sheer from the M-class star they’d just spun past.

Because naturally they happened to be careening through an asteroid field. 

The time rotor rose and dipped, Gallifreyan symbols whirling overhead; Logan adjusted shields and dodged rocks, striding confidently from station to station. He guided his TARDIS around the last large asteroid, one that easily could have smashed his beloved ship to bits, and then they were clear.

The TARDIS chimed reassuringly under his hands, relieved to be in empty space again. 

Roman screamed.

The sound echoed off the metallic walls, causing Logan to whip around and nearly lose his balance. 

“What happened?” he said sharply, leaving the console. The creative Side stood near the railing, staring down at himself in obvious dismay. “What’s wrong?”

“Look at me, Logan!” Roman said shrilly and gesturing at his body. “Just look!”

Logan examined his fellow Side. There were no obvious injuries he could see, no blood, no bruising, nothing that would merit a scream. There was just Roman, unfairly handsome as always.

(He still wasn’t sure how Roman managed that feat when they all literally, at least some of the time, had the same face.)

“I…don’t see a problem?” Logan asked slowly. 

“I meant, look at what I’m _wearing_ , Calculator Watch,” Roman snarled, and turned to yell nonsensically at the ceiling. “Am I a joke to you? When I said I wanted to be a companion, this is not what I meant!”

Logan focused on Roman’s clothing, which _had_ shifted rather drastically since passing through those doors. His normal princely attire was replaced by a denim cutoff skirt, overalls, pink leggings, and a tight pink blouse that clung to his muscular chest and arms...

“I look ridiculous, don’t I?” Roman murmured, scuffing a combat boot against the metal grated floor. The motion drew Logan’s gaze again to the way the cutoffs hugged his hips and wow, that skirt was _really_ short, wasn’t it? 

And those tights, the way they accentuated Roman’s legs...

Logan frowned, his face feeling unusually warm. Why did he keep _noticing_ these things? Of course Roman was more fit than the rest of them. 

Perhaps it was simply that Logan didn’t usually see the evidence of it so…plainly.

 _Stop_ , Logan told himself sharply. _You might be gay and allosexual, but that is no excuse to be disrespectful._

He cleared his throat. 

“If I may, Roman?” he said, approaching, and made a closer examination of Roman’s outfit. 

“I gather from your earlier ranting that you instructed the Imagination to cast you as one of the Doctor’s companions for the duration of this scenario?”

“Well, yeah,” Roman admitted, “but I was thinking someone like Jamie McCrimmon, or Rory Williams, or maybe even Jack Harkness!”

“You know there is some debate over whether Jack Harkness would be considered a proper ‘companion’, as he was never full time on the TARDIS,” Logan argued absently, still eying Roman’s ensemble. 

It was attractive but also familiar; he just couldn’t quite place it…

“Neither was Clara Oswald at first, but nobody had a problem handing her that label from the start!” Roman folded his arms and Logan had to look away because wow, short sleeves and _arms_ … 

“Just because she was a _girl_ and the writers obviously intended for her to be a love interest—”

“A girl, of course!” Logan snapped his fingers. “Roman, you _are_ a companion. Specifically, you are Rose Tyler.”

“What?” Roman frowned, smoothing the overalls across his middle. “I…Hmm. You might actually be right.”

“Of course I am right.”

The creative Side scoffed at that, but continued to frown.

“I think it’s a good choice,” Logan added. “Rose is arguably one of the most beloved companions in new Who; bold, kind, and intelligent in her own way. She was pivotal to the Ninth, Tenth, and arguably the War Doctor’s character arcs.”

He laid a hand on Roman’s shoulder. (To convey reassurance, of course. Not because he suddenly wanted to _touch_ …)

“Hers are not the worst shoes you could be given to fill,” Logan said, “idiomatically speaking.”

“Only you would drop a word like ‘idiomatically’ in everyday conversation,” Roman grumbled, but some of the spark returned to his caramel eyes. 

“But look at you!” Roman said in a brighter voice, gesturing. “All proper and Doctor-ish. At least the Imagination let you keep your tie, or, whatever that thing is around your neck.”

Logan glanced down at himself for the first time. 

His sensible polo and jeans had become a clean-cut black suit, with a warm grey waistcoat, a crisp white undershirt, and a silver pocket watch. A navy cravat was knotted around his throat. 

His knee-length suit jacket was also black, with a striking cerulean lining. 

He retrieved a slender, metallic something from the jacket’s inner pocket: of course, the Doctor’s signature sonic screwdriver. Specifically, the Tenth Doctor’s screwdriver. 

Logan chuckled, remembering all the times he’d ranted to Roman about how impractical and flashy Eleven’s screwdriver became, and don’t even get him started on Twelve’s, it was practically a lightsaber…

“Interesting,” he murmured, stretching his arms to turn in a slow circle, letting the jacket flare. “Fashionably, I appear to be a cross between the Eighth and Twelfth Doctors, which I appreciate, as they are the two most sensible dressers of the bunch. And by the way, Roman, this is a called a cravat, not a tie…”

He’d lifted hands to his neck but the words died on his tongue. 

Roman had summoned a mirror and was, quite literally, checking himself out. He swayed his hips, tilted one toward and then away from the mirror, pouted, did a tongue smile, and…and Logan realized he had been watching for more than a socially acceptable length of time. 

He swallowed hard and cleared his throat again. But he was saved from having to speak by a loud crackling at the center console. 

Both Sides rushed over, Logan seizing the TV screen and pulling it down. Gray static skittered over the polished surface. He flipped two switches and turned a dial, trying to zero in on the signal.

“I meant to ask earlier…how do you know what to do?” Roman asked, tilting his head. “You were piloting before I think you even realized we were on a TARDIS in the first place.”

Logan froze in the middle of winding one of the cranks. 

“I…I really do not know.” In fact, the more he thought about it, the less sense any of the controls made. “Now that you’ve drawn my attention to it, you are correct: rationally, I should not know the function of any of these…gizmos.” He gestured at the crank he’d been winding. 

“Yet somehow my hands just…know.”

Roman leaned casually onto the console. 

“When I built this LARP, I gave the Imagination quite a bit of leeway in how it wanted to construct our characters,” he said. “I’m thinking it took things a step further than costume changes, like making me the companion it thinks I most resemble instead of the companion I wanted to be.”

Roman bit his lip as though troubled, then clearly shook himself out of it. 

“And it must have imparted some of the Doctor’s knowledge upon me.” Logan added, not sure how he felt about the Imagination having such a direct influence over his mind. He supposed if it didn’t get too invasive, and was confined to this one night, he could deal with it. 

It had proven useful so far, after all.

Roman shot Logan a fierce grin.

“Indeed! So engage that big Doctor brain and let’s see who’s trying to call us. Allons-y, adventure awaits!”

“You know ‘allons-y’ is my line, right?” Logan said dryly.

He had to use his screwdriver on the screen before the picture came clear. The stream of static acquired the cadence of a voice…and then a disturbingly familiar face stared back at his own, looking equally shocked.

Roman, for the second time since entering the TARDIS, let out a bloodcurdling scream.


	3. The Witch's Familiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janus's quiet night is interrupted, and he is rather unhappy about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music: [Against You by Lacuna Coil](https://open.spotify.com/track/6ik8OotIniEm64d8ddhkV5?si=JZW0EXfQS4afQR7Fpl-uUg)

_“If you’re going to take my stick, do me the courtesy of actually killing me. Teamwork is all about respect.”_

Janus had just settled into his favorite chair with a mug of chamomile tea and a political science book when he was yanked…rather rudely, he might add…onto the deck of a spaceship.

He sighed, and dismissed his drink.

When one lived in the same mindspace as the literal embodiment of chaos, one unfortunately learned to expect such interruptions.

“REMUS!” he roared, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Did I not specifically ask to be LEFT ALONE tonight?”

Silence.

Deeply annoyed now, Janus took a moment to look around himself. This was not a normal spaceship; no windows, for one, and it was laid out in levels around a translucent column at the very center. His mismatched eyes followed the center rotor up and down, his mind almost placing it…

Something clumsily rose up from the deck with a clatter, causing Janus to summon his crook with a yell. 

Only…the object that dropped into his hand wasn’t smooth wood, but a slender metal instrument just barely longer than his hand. _A…sonic screwdriver? What the actual heck?_

Well. It was what he had. 

“Get back!” He pointed the instrument at the…figure…who still slowly climbed to its feet. It was an android or robot of some sort; humanoid, and the same kind of weirdly familiar as the ship.

“Janus?” the robot said, tilting its head.

Janus froze, all the scales standing up on his body. _That was…that was_ Patton’s _voice._ Flat, mechanical, but unmistakable.

After all, Patton was the only Side who consistently called Janus by name.

“ _Patton_?” Janus whispered.

“Oh, that was so weird-feeling! Thank goodness I’m not all by myself,” Robot-Patton said, putting a hand over his…well, where his heart _should_ have been…in obvious relief. “But why are we both suddenly on the TARDIS?”

Janus drew in a sharp breath. 

_Of course_ , he should have recognized the stupid _time rotor_ immediately. He’d never admit it to any of them, but he was as much of a Doctor Who nerd as Logan or Roman, sometimes going so far as to spy on them when they argued over episodes together. 

To learn their arguing styles, of course. 

Not because he had any desire to _join_ those discussions.

And now, looking at Patton with a sinking feeling in his stomach, Janus deduced exactly what he was: a Mondasian Cyberman. They were older and cruder in design than the reboot versions…no wonder he hadn’t put a finger on it right away.

That wasn’t really the issue.

“REMUS!” Janus shouted again, more angrily this time. Bad enough his pleasant evening of solitude had been interrupted by…whatever this was. But putting the sweetest, most emotional Side into a canonically unemotional shell, a _robot_? 

That was cruel. That was _insulting_.

It was too far, even for Remus.

“Janus, is everything okay?” Patton asked, coming closer. Janus shivered at the sound of that warm voice coming from a blank metallic face with empty eyes.

“Do you…feel all right?” Janus said in a hesitant voice. 

“I’m a little chilly, but otherwise I’m in ship shape!” the other quipped, giggling. “Get it? Cause we’re on a ship?”

_Is it…is it possible that he doesn’t know?_

“Hilarious,” Janus deadpanned, but inside his thoughts spun. 

He sensed they were in a dream construct within the Imagination, which meant this _had_ to be Remus’s doing. Remus, who reveled in gore, despair, disturbing imagery, angst, and who was in charge of Thomas’s nightmares. 

Remus could…and _would_ , given the chance…recreate the experience of being a Cyberman down to the Last. Grim. Detail. 

Maybe he hadn’t meant to ensnare Patton specifically to fill this role…Remus didn’t generally pull other Sides in for nightmares, come to think of it…but meanwhile, Janus didn’t want to find out what this might do to Patton’s head.

Worse, it was becoming clear that Patton was somehow oblivious to the state of his own body; he’d used his metallic hands to clutch at his metallic chest and found nothing wrong with either. He couldn’t hear the electronic rasp in his own voice, or the heavy clanging of his steps on the grated floor. 

Should Janus say something?

Would Patton believe him if he did? 

Ever since Thomas’s near mental breakdown after the disastrous wedding, Patton and Janus had orbited around each other in a state of tenuous truce. They talked now, sometimes, and those talks didn’t always end in arguments. Patton began to leave space for him by Thomas’s blinds when he was called up, and he…and by extension _Thomas_ …occasionally actually sought his input.

But Janus, well. 

Janus was still a liar.

The others still called him Deceit, either by accident (Logan) or out of spite (Virgil). Then there was Roman, who invented a colorful, wounding ego-jab for him every day, and Remus, whose fond nicknames tended to double as sex jokes.

Having no other real allies in the mindscape, Janus really, _really_ didn’t want to screw up his tenuous alliance with Patton. Why sabotage his figurative “seat at the table” over one of Remus’s stupid nightmares?

Patton would assume Janus was slipping back into his old ways, lying just because he could, and Janus would never be able to prove otherwise. And later Patton would make that sour, pinched face he always made when he was disappointed, the one that made Janus want to crawl into a hole…

So.

Best to keep his observations close to the chest, for now.

“Do you have any idea what we’re doing here?” Janus asked, striding to the center console. True to dream logic, the controls made no sense and simultaneously made perfect sense. 

Patton shrugged; a strange, clanky motion of his shoulders.

Janus sighed. “Although Remus has dragged me into dreams before, even he generally understands the concept of consent.” He casually flapped a hand. “And he always leaves you ‘light sides’ alone.”

“Honestly, this doesn’t feel like a nightmare to me,” Patton said, nearly making Janus choke. The Cyberman clanked over to stand by the console. 

“It’s too clean,” Patton added. “Roman let me glimpse Remus’s side of the Imagination once, not long after he showed himself to Thomas, and it was…”

Patton trailed off.

“Fragmented? Chaotic? Disturbing?” Janus supplied.

“Sure, we’ll go with that,” Patton said quietly. “This,” he waved a hand around, “feels more like Roman’s work.”

“I suppose you would know.” Janus ran a thoughtful thumb over his face, tracing the ridge that ran from the corner of his mouth to his ear. 

“And I would almost have to agree,” he added slowly. “If this was a nightmare, surely something ghastly would have happened by now. But my being pulled into one of _Roman’s_ creations makes even less sense. He literally cannot stand me.”

“Maybe this is one of those dreams Thomas has sometimes after binge watching a show?” Patton suggested. “When there’s enough material in short term memory that the twins don’t get much input? Did Thomas binge a season of Doctor Who yesterday or something?”

_And to think the others still view you as stupid, or slow-witted._

Janus bit back a smile.

“It’s a good theory, Patton, but no,” he said. “Thomas hasn’t really binged on much of anything lately.”

Patton ducked his head. 

“You don’t…you don’t have to rub it in, you know,” he said lowly, the metallic rasp grating on Janus’s ears. “You and Logan have both made it pretty clear that I’ve been too strict with Thomas’s time.”

Janus fought to keep his expression neutral, but his stomach twisted. 

_Damn it._

Leave it to Patton to find guilt where none was meant. Even if Janus claimed he hadn’t meant it like that, Patton would probably not believe him.

Patton tilted his metal head as he examined Janus’s face. 

“Did you know you have a mustache now? And a little goatee?”

“I have a _what_?” Janus felt at his face and groaned, his gloved fingers tugging at hair that most certainly _did not belong_ on his face; with the scales, it probably looked hideous. 

His entire outfit had altered in subtle ways, he realized. His usual plum tunic and trousers were now a brown suit and waistcoat ensemble, crossed with yellow pinstripes, with a black collared undershirt. A brown, knee-length suit jacket replaced his caplet, with subtle gold trimming. His yellow gloves were unchanged, thank goodness, and his hat…?

His hands flew up to his head and found _something_ perched over his hair, sitting at an angle. Janus yanked down a screen at the console and stared. His beloved bowler had shrunk into a tiny, flat, rakish thing with a wide brim, festooned with a cluster of yellow rosebuds and black beads.

“What on earth, Remus?” he grumbled, turning his head from side to side. Well, if he had to be honest, pinstripes and a hatinator weren’t a terrible look.

“Well, if we’re on a TARDIS, I guess you’re supposed to be the Doctor,” Patton pointed out. “Which would make me your companion.”

Janus stroked his goatee and examined their surroundings in more detail. _But_ am _I a Doctor?_ he wondered. _And if so, which one?_

_And whose TARDIS is this?_

Because while it was clear they were on _a_ TARDIS…what other class of spaceship had a time rotor?…he wasn’t almost certain this was not _the_ TARDIS.

Every corner of the Doctor’s ship, no matter which face it belonged to, tended to overflow with bright, shiny, eclectic whimsy. By contrast, this one was plain, stark, with exposed metal beams and sharp angles. 

Too dark, too full of shadows.

An awful suspicion rose up in his mind.

He crossed to one of the bookshelves, ignoring Patton’s soft inquiry, and his jaw clenched. There was the _Necronomicon_ , shelved between the _Liber Inducens in Evangelium Aeternum_ and _The Black Scrolls of Rassilon, Book of Vile_ and its Black Appendix, _The Ambuehl Lores_ and the _Insidium of Astrolabus_. 

Janus finally looked at the sonic device he’d been holding all this time; seeing now that it wasn’t a screwdriver at all, and thanked every god he knew that he hadn’t tried to use it on Patton earlier. 

It was a sonic laser. 

Once again, even in a stupid, nonsensical _dream_ , Janus had been cast as the villain.

His fist had collided with the bookshelf before he even realized he was moving, books falling to the floor. He punched it again, and again, until a cool rigid hand closed around his wrist and yanked him back.

“Janus, _Janus_ , stop!” Patton yelled in his ear.

Janus wrenched his arm away and stalked back to the console, running gloved fingers over his scales, pushing them up and smoothing them down. The familiar sensation grounded him.

“You were right, Patton,” he threw over his shoulder. “This is definitely one of Roman’s dreams, and he _definitely_ fucking hates me.”

Patton’s heavy footsteps clattered behind him.

“Language. And how do you know that,” he asked. “…Doctor?”

Janus whirled, lips curled in a snarl. 

“I am _not_ the Doctor, Patton, and we are not on the TARDIS.” He spread his arms to encompass them both, gesturing to the dimly lit spaceship. “Look around. Look at me!”

He turned, slowly, and eyed his mustached visage in the dark view screen.

“Clearly, I am the Master.”


	4. Nightmare in Silver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They discover they're all in Roman's LARP together, and possibly who's behind it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music: [Robot Boy by Linkin Park](https://open.spotify.com/track/4rmh6SQgfDtKCvRfS6MUup?si=VAsdE8NlR1CVJZTDx9FbNw)

_“You think he knows what he’s doing?”_  
_“I’m not sure I’d go that far.”_

Patton rested his arms against the console and sighed. 

_Once again, someone I care about is upset, and I don’t know what to do. I guess I should be used to it by now._

It didn’t help that it was so _cold_ in this TARDIS. He folded his arms around his middle, which felt strange and heavy, to combat the chill that seemed to have settled deep in his bones. 

Janus stalked past again, grumbling to himself.

“Of course the Prince would pull me into one of his little ‘adventures’ without my consent. He probably needed an antagonist. And naturally the slippery _snake_ would have been the first person to come to mind!”

Patton opened his mouth…though he had no idea what he was going to say…but Janus drowned him out.

“Come on, Roman!” he shouted, throwing his yellow-clad hands up. “You’ve had your fun. Yes, I’m evil, I’m the villain, I’m the bad guy, blah blah. Let’s have our epic confrontation or whatever nonsense you have planned, as I would _very_ much like to get back to my reading sometime tonight.”

Silence. 

Patton didn’t know what Janus was expecting.

“Look, maybe we should just play along for now?” Patton said aloud, wincing when Janus turned his murderous expression on him. The deceptive Side had such deep, cutting golden eyes, the human one so much darker than the other…cynical eyes that were, ironically, almost impossible to lie to. 

They’d see straight through it.

_"It takes a liar to know a liar."_

The glare quickly softened, though, which in Patton’s opinion said a lot about how far Janus had come.

“And how do you propossse we ‘play along’?” Janus said, hissing his s’s in frustration.

“Well, we’ve kinda decided this is Roman’s dream, right? And since we’re in his part of the Imagination, we know he won’t let anything bad happen to us…”

Patton trailed off at Janus’s pained expression, reminded of just how badly Janus and Roman’s last encounter had gone. 

_“What are you, a middle school librarian?”_

_“Thank god you don’t have a mustache.”_

_And I just stood there and did_ nothing _...no, I can't dwell on that right now._ Patton shook himself out of the memory. 

It was surprisingly easy; even his emotions felt a little heavy and muted. He supposed he wasn’t used to being in a dreamscape; unlike Roman, who played in them all the time.

_I_ know _Roman_ , he reasoned. _He might hold a grudge for a while, but he wouldn’t actually be out to_ hurt _Janus._

_Right?_

“So, if we’re on a time ship, on some kind of adventure leading up to a confrontation like you said, the first thing we’d have to do is figure out where we need to go,” Patton finished, shrugging.

Janus pursed his lips…which looked downright weird with a mustache and goatee, almost making Patton giggle…and began pushing buttons on the console. 

“You are definitely _in_ correct, Patton,” he said, pulling up another screen and flipping a few switches. “If I have been cast as the villain in this ridiculous charade, that means Roman is likely prancing around as the Doctor right now, on the proper TARDIS. Which, as the Doctor's nemesis, I should be able to contact…ha!”

The screen burst into static.

“Doctor, oh Doctor, do you read me?” Janus crooned, and if Patton hadn’t known just how angry he was in that moment, he...well, he would have never known.

Janus had tucked it away entirely, in half a second's time.

_That’s the scary thing about him_ , Patton realized uneasily. _He’s smart, nearly as smart as Logan. Smart enough to run circles around me, that’s for sure. And he’s easily as good an actor as Roman._

Those attributes, combined with his naturally manipulative nature, made it difficult to trust him.

Patton was _trying_.

He’d been trying since the wedding, and well, since everything else that had happened. (Patton still cringed when Thomas encountered even a picture of a frog.) He’d done a lot of thinking and growing that day (in more ways than one!), and he’d come to a disturbing, but inevitable conclusion.

Janus wasn’t evil. 

He never had been. 

Just like Virgil had never been evil. Mean, sure; and sarcastic, and spiteful…but at his core, Virgil had wanted what was best for Thomas.

They all did.

And then there was the uncomfortable corollary to that: Patton, despite his best efforts, despite his core Purpose…Patton wasn’t entirely and automatically _good_.

Two weeks ago, Janus had proven beyond a doubt that Thomas needed him…ruthlessly, cuttingly, but no one could say he hadn’t made his point. It had been _Patton_ who’d inadvertently pushed Thomas to the brink of a breakdown, and _Janus_ who had to pull them all back. 

Despite Patton’s unease, and the little voice in his head telling him that Deceit couldn’t be trusted, could never truly be trusted because it was in his nature to deceive…Patton remembered how they’d pushed Virgil so hard he decided to duck out, and how much of a tragedy that could have been if they hadn’t all intervened to bring him back. 

With a pang of guilt, he pictured Thomas lying on the floor, crushed under the metaphorical weight of everything Patton needed him to do to keep from being a bad person…

He _would not_ make those mistakes again.

If Virgil could learn to work with them instead of against them, so could Janus. If _Patton_ could learn to recognize when his own Purpose did more harm than good, so could Janus. 

Patton had to believe that.

He’d made too many mistakes lately to believe otherwise.

The screen in Janus’s hands cleared to reveal…

“What? _Logan_??” Janus exclaimed, as a scream echoed somewhere in the background.

“D— _Janus_?” Logan countered, then looked over his shoulder. “Roman, for the love of Archimedes, will you stop shrieking? I cannot hear.”

The screaming cut off and Roman’s fuming face squished into the frame with Logan.

“Deceit! I should have known you would show up to ruin this!” he managed to shout before Logan shoved him away. 

“Ruin…I’m sorry, what?” Janus glanced at Patton, looking honestly confused. “Is he roleplaying right now? We assumed this scenario was Roman’s creation.”

Onscreen, Logan placed his whole hand against Roman’s mouth to prevent him from interrupting. 

“It is. But to my understanding, it was only supposed to involve myself and Roman, and…wait. You said ’we’.” Logan peered around. “Who else is with you?”

Patton started to wave, but his view was blocked by Janus bending close to the screen to whisper something. Suspicion flared in Patton’s stomach; old, familiar, but after the talk he’d just given himself, he purposefully pushed it down.

_I won’t assume he’s being shifty unless he actually gives me a reason to._

Lifting his chin, he crept forward until he was next to Janus’s shoulder.

“Hey, Logan,” he said brightly, waving. 

“Ah…hello, Patton,” Logan squeaked after a moment, his eyes still wide. 

“Wait, Patton’s there? With the _snake_?” Roman’s voice yelled from the background, and then there was Roman’s face again. 

“Patton?” Roman said, narrowing his eyes. “But why are you—?”

Both faces disappeared for a moment as Logan yanked Roman out of frame. Patton thought he heard a rapid, hushed conversation. He glanced at Janus, who only shrugged, looking at puzzled as Patton felt. 

Roman’s face reappeared, solemn and deeply annoyed.

“Patton,” he said, and hesitated. “D—Janus. You two…well, you’re not supposed to be here.”

“Very reassuring,” Janus quipped.

“This was only supposed to be a two-person adventure: Doctor plus companion. I have no idea why the Imagination brought you both in as well; I certainly didn’t tell it to.”

“Aw, that’s okay, kiddo,” Patton started gently. “It’s not your fault—”

“Oh, sweetie.” Janus folded his arms. “I’m sorry, but that’s bull. Putting me in the Master’s shoes? Are we seriously going to pretend the Side who unashamedly hates me had _nothing_ to do with that?”

“I didn’t!” Roman argued, his voice going high. “You really think I wanted you here, in _any_ capacity?”

“Deceit…er, Janus, you are being unnecessarily antagonistic, and as such, unhelpful,” Logan cut in with his low, reassuring voice. “But Roman, it might behoove us to consider the role of subconscious influence. You may not have intended to pull the others in, and yet here they are.”

Roman looked at Logan, aghast, and Patton almost flinched at the raw hurt in his caramel eyes. The creative Side backed out of frame.

“So you’re on his side, too,” his voice said quietly. “Is that how it is?”

“I am not on anyone’s side,” Logan argued, raising his hands. “We are all currently in this situation together, and as such—”

Whatever he’d been about to say was cut off by another garbled transmission, taking over the screen and blocking out Logan’s face with crackly, purple static. A gray, snarling face flashed out of the haze, making Patton shriek in surprise and even Janus took a step back. 

Then it was gone, dissolving back to static…and the sound of someone laughing filled the connection.

“ _Hellooooo, nurse_ ,” a familiar sing-song voice crooned. “ _Did you miss me?_ ”


	5. The Long Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus reveals the LARP's new objective, and Logan thinks back to a certain conversation...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music: [Crazy, Mad, Insane by Beast in Black](https://open.spotify.com/track/04nkqxmzecFpO7SxCEQdq5?si=eJWWAh67T-K7AbEFm2OsQQ)

_“You can’t just read the guide book, you’ve got to throw yourself in. Eat the food, use the wrong verbs, get charged double and end up kissing complete strangers. Or is that just me?”_

Logan sighed. 

He knew that voice; they all did. Even Thomas, unfortunately. 

“Remus,” Roman hissed.

The mustached Side filled the screen, grinning madly. “ _Boo!_ ”

“Get out of my scenario,” Roman said, his eyes flashing. “If you know what’s good for you.”

“ _Your_ scenario?” Remus echoed, faux-outrage in his expression. “Yours? The Dream Palace is _my_ domain, too, brother, whether you like it or not.” He leaned closer, letting his nostrils and a single radioactive green eye fill the screen. “Did you really think you could keep me out?”

Roman made a sound of disgust deep in his throat. 

“Am I to assume, then, that you are responsible for bringing in the other Sides?” Logan asked, careful to keep his voice even. Remus thrived on getting a rise out of people.

“Of course he is!” Roman snapped, throwing up his hands. “He loves to ruin things, especially _my_ things.”

“Now why would having the others here ruin anything, brother?” Remus asked in a sickly sweet voice, propping his head on his hand. “Unless you intended for this nighttime romp between you and Logan to be _private_?”

Roman sputtered and glanced at Logan, red-faced, as Remus giggled.

“It was meant to be so, yes,” Logan supplied, unsure why Remus would find that funny…or why Roman would find it embarrassing.

“As _amusing_ as this all is—” Janus’s crooning voice cut through the speaker.

“Great. You’re still here, snake?” Roman snarked, his arms folded around himself. 

“We’re all listening, kiddo,” Patton’s metallic voice said.

_Roman’s lips always curl into a pout when he is angry_ , Logan thought, eyeing him without turning his head, _and he gets a little wrinkle between his eyebrows. Why…why am I_ noticing _such things all of a sudden?_

Maybe it was the stress, or the unfamiliar environment. 

Or maybe it was the Rose Tyler outfit. 

_That skirt ought to be illegal._

Logan deliberately focused on the screen, his cheeks warm.

“So this is kinda new,” Patton went on, “all of us actually talking—”

“If Remus is responsible,” Janus cut in again, “then perhaps he would be so kind as to explain the objective of this late night group therapy session?”

Despite the biting sarcasm, Logan did appreciate Janus’s insistence that they get to the point, even if it did mean talking over Patton…

Speaking of, why would Remus have paired Patton with _Janus_? 

Surely he should have grouped Patton with Logan and Roman, and put Virgil with Janus? _Or…maybe not, given how Virgil hisses if Janus so much as enters the same room_.

Ugh. Interpersonal drama. Logan was thoroughly sick of trying to keep track of who carried a grudge against whom, especially when it seemed to change from day to day. 

_And on top of that, why would Remus make Patton a Cyberman? None of these decisions make any sense…_

“Right?” Roman agreed softly next to him, and Logan realized he’d said that last bit out loud.

“If anything, _I_ should have been the unfeeling killer robot,” Logan murmured.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Specs.” Roman shot him a strange look, both warm and troubled. “And frankly I don’t give a stinky rat’s ass about my stinky rat brother’s sick thought process. What _I_ want to know is why Deceit doesn’t want us to mention it around Patton?”

Logan, who was still mentally stuck on rodents and donkeys…Roman’s metaphors were always something else…shook his head slightly.

“There’s no logical way Patton is unaware of his condition,” Logan pointed out. “So I can only guess he wishes to protect Patton’s feelings on the matter, by not allowing us to talk about it in front of him.” He shrugged when Roman’s frown deepened. “Those two have been getting along much better these last few weeks.”

“I think you’re giving the snake too much credit,” Roman muttered. “Even after he impersonated you, Logan? C’mon. It has to be something else.”

Logan bit back a sigh. 

_He doesn’t understand_ , he thought guiltily. _Because he doesn’t know what really happened_ … 

#

_“This is unacceptable, Deceit,” Logan snapped, flinging the crook away from his body. “I was in the middle of a discussion—”_

__

_“He won’t listen to you,” Deceit had said, and there was no sarcasm or snark in his voice._

_“Patton asked for my opinion!”_

_“And he dismissed you from the conversation the moment that opinion went against his preconceived notions!” Deceit snapped back._

_Silence._

_Logan could hear the others still talking, out in the real world…without him…as the misty dregs of subconscious curled around their feet._

_“You tricked him.” Logan folded his arms. “He was scared and off balance and you gave him an out.”_

_“I didn’t make him take it!”_

_Deceit sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose._

_“Logan. You know he is wrong on this. You know what this is doing to Thomas. His unquestioning, black-and-white, juvenile morality; it’s not working anymore. Thomas needs to _grow up_ , and Patton is not letting him.”_

_Logan bit his lip._

_“Logan.” Deceit moved closer, dismissing his crook into mist and setting both gloved hands on Logan’s shoulders. Logan stiffened._

_“_ Logic. _Please. I am…no good at this.” Deceit dropped his head, his hat obscuring his eyes. “I operate through deceit because that is the only way I can make them acknowledge me.”_

_“They don’t acknowledge you_ because _you operate through deceit,” Logan pointed out._

_“A perfect catch 22.” Deceit let out a bitter laugh. “But a snake cannot change its scales and I don’t…I have tried everything I know. I cannot fix this from the shadows. I am out of ideas.”_

_A strange thought entered Logan’s mind._

_“You care. You care what happens to Thomas.”_

_Deceit looked up, his mismatched eyes glittering with stinging intensity. “I am the literal representation of selfishness. Why the hell else would I go to all this trouble if I didn’t care?”_

_“Well…” Logan trailed off, troubled._

_He’d let the others get to him, he realized in that moment. He’d let_ Roman _get to him, with his talk of evil and Dark Sides and how they were always trying to tempt Thomas off the right path._

_But…they were all_ part _of Thomas, even the so-called “dark sides”._

_Of course they wanted what was best for him…well, what Remus wanted at any given moment was debatable…even if they didn’t always go about it in the healthiest of ways._

_Deceit had laughed then, high pitched and bitter._

_“Really?_ Really _? Even you think so low of me?”_

_“You are manipulating me right now.” Logan frowned. “You are using my concern for Thomas to make me trust you.”_

_“Yes! I am!” Deceit got in his face, fangs flashing. “I am a manipulative bastard because that is the lens through which my Source perceives me. But that doesn’t matter because you, Logic; you see through me, always have. And you know perfectly well that_ logically _, any objection you have to my personality or my methods does not change the fact that I. Am._ Right. _”_

_He punctuated each word with a poke to Logan’s chest._

_“Deceit—” Logan started._

_“Janus.”_

_“What?”_

_Deceit sighed. “My name. My…real name. It’s Janus.”_

_Logan blinked. He knew the mythology, of course: Janus, keeper of doorways and thresholds, looking simultaneously to the past and future. Two faces. Seeing things from every angle._

_Self-preservation._

_“It suits you,” Logan said quietly_.

_Tension bled out of Janus’s shoulders, a stiffness Logan hadn’t even realized was there until it was gone._

_“Thank you.”_

_“Why am I here…Janus?” Logan asked, glancing away. “What do you need from me?”_

_Janus looked at him intently._

_“Let me speak to them as you.”_

_Logan raised an eyebrow, and Janus sighed, waving a hand._

_“I know, I know, more deceit, more lies, but—”_

_“No, it’s…” Logan pressed his lips together. “You already pointed it out. They don’t listen to me, either.”_

_The bitter twist that accompanied those words was becoming an all too familiar sensation in Logan’s chest._

_Janus snorted._

_“Oh, they do. Eventually. They heeded your advice on how to deal with Remus.”_

_Logan shrugged uncomfortably._

_“Look,” Janus added, “honest people know how to tell the truth, but liars…” he smirked, not especially nicely. “We know how to wield the truth to accomplish an end. I can pull Thomas and the others out of this rut, but they have to be receptive to my tugging on the reins.”_

_Logan pursed his lips._

_“You won’t fool them. If you recall, you tried to impersonate me once already and barely lasted two minutes.”_

_“I didn’t have your blessing.”_

_Janus fixed Logan with his intense mismatched eyes again, and held out a hand._

_Logan stared at it, torn._

_This was Deceit, the master liar: Thomas’s entire capacity for deception condensed into a single, snake-faced Side. How could Logan possibly trust him to not make things worse, after all the falsehoods, the impersonations, how he’d manipulated them all in one way or another to get his way?_

_But…as much as Logan, personally, didn’t understand why that callback had been so important to Thomas…he could not dismiss the fallout Thomas had suffered as a result of missing it. The decision to attend the wedding had turned out to be a bad one._

_Patton had been wrong to insist upon it over Janus’s objections, and over Roman’s._

_Those were just the facts._

_Janus sighed._

_“I’ll unmask myself when an opportunity arises, if that would help,” he offered, and to Logan’s shock, slowly tugged off a glove. “I won’t…I won’t let it go on as long as it did with Patton.”_

_He offered his now bare hand to Logan again._

_Out in the real world, Logan could hear Patton’s increasingly desperate and ridiculous responses to Thomas’s and Roman’s questions, and winced. Janus did the same._

_“Please,” was all he said._

_Logan sighed…it really couldn’t_ get _any worse, could it?…and shook Janus’s hand._

#

In his TARDIS, Logan let out the sigh he was holding back. 

He might have personal, concrete evidence that Janus wasn’t evil, but he also knew Janus had wounded Roman, badly, that day. The creative Side was simply not currently capable of viewing any situation involving Janus with any sort of objectivity. 

Passionate, sensitive people like Roman tended to have an unfortunate habit of hanging onto grudges.

As Logic, Logan needed to remember that.

“Oh, all right,” Remus said, his voice crackling over the connection. “Since you’re all here—”

“Actually, Remus, we’re not all here,” Patton’s voice pointed out. “You all know perfectly well who we’re missing; we’ve done this before.”

Logan’s eyes widened. “‘Where is Anxiety?’” he quoted.

“You mean Tickle Me Emo isn’t with one of you?” Remus asked, looking delighted. “Oh dear, oh dear. Is he lost?”

“I mean, TARDISes are huge,” Roman pointed out. “He could be somewhere on one of our ships.” His voice dropped again. “I’ll bet Deceit stashed him away, because we all know how he hates Virgil.”

“Excuse you,” Janus’s voice interrupted, annoyed. “It is Virgil who hates me, not the other way around.”

“Let’s both scan our ships,” Logan suggested, hoping to head off an argument. _Honestly_ , if Roman and Janus didn’t stop picking fights with one another, he was going to lose his marbles.

The scans pulled up nothing.

“Oh well,” Remus said with a shrug. “Guess the emo gets to miss out.”

Janus grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “lucky”.

“All right, here’s what’s going to happen.” Remus leaned close to the screen. “I’ve crash landed on a lovely snowbound planet that’s crawling with psychotic tin cans who like to roll around yelling ‘exterminate’.”

“Daleks? A snowbound planet, so not Skarro, but where else…” Logan narrowed his eyes. 

“He’s on the Dalek asylum,” Roman said lowly. “That was one of the episodes I had in mind when I plotted this adventure.”

“Very good, brother.” Remus clapped his hands. “And up there in orbit is a ship full of people who’d really like to blow up the whole planet. Oh, woe is me, whatever shall I—”

“Save it,” Roman snapped. “You’d probably enjoy getting blown up.”

“Hmm, true.” Remus’s green eyes sharpened. “Think of the mess! Little bits of intestines floating through space, long pink ropey—”

“ _Or_?” Logan interjected, before Remus gave Patton nightmares. 

“Or you have to come rescue me!” Remus’s teeth flashed as he grinned. “Because otherwise it’s nighty-night for me and all the other aliens in the asylum.”

There was a beat of silence.

“As _terrible_ as that sounds,” Janus drawled, sounding anything but worried, “given that none of this is real, and at least _one_ of us would very much rather not be here at all…why exactly should your plight concern us?”

Logan secretly agreed, but felt his stomach clench when he glanced at Roman’s troubled face. None of this _was_ real…right? Would something concretely bad happen to Remus if the planet he inhabited was blown up? 

_Surely not._

This was only a dream. Perhaps, then, Roman was merely upset that his twin had usurped his adventure for the night?

“Also.” Remus buffed his fingernails. “You should know that the Imagination will only release us if we complete the objective. In other words,” and he sneered, purple-shadowed eyes glittering, “we’re all stuck in this scenario until we’re all reunited.”

Remus giggled as Logan exchanged a shocked look with Roman.

“I don’t believe you. This was _my dream_ ,” Roman said darkly. “And I’ve just about had enough of all this!”

He stepped back and snapped his fingers with a flourish. Frowning, he did it again, and again, his face growing paler with each try.

“Roman, what—” Logan started.

“I can’t end it,” Roman whispered, still snapping. “He’s right. He’s…he’s sealed off the dream’s boundaries somehow. Remus!”

This he roared at the screen. 

“Keeping Thomas trapped in a dream state is going _too far_ , Remus!” he yelled. “I don’t care what kind of demented game you want to play with us, but we _don’t bring Thomas into it._ ”

“Oh, you think _I_ created an unbreakable dreamscape?” Remus snapped. “You let the Imagination have too much reign, my dear brother, and now neither of us have the power to end the dream ourselves. I estimate we have about ten hours before Thomas wakes up.”

For a moment, all Logan could hear was the soft whoosh of the time rotor, and Roman’s shallow, angry breathing at his shoulder. 

“So I suggest you all pilot your ships to these coordinates,” Remus added, and a series of numbers and strange symbols flashed up on one of the smaller console screens. “And get started.”

The main screen blipped, and Remus’s face was replaced by an expressionless Cyberman and a snake-faced Side who looked extremely pale under his scales.

“Well,” Logan stated. “This is a problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have a personal headcanon that Janus and Logan came to some sort of agreement after Janus yanked him offscreen; this scene is the result of that. I think that's why he voluntarily revealed himself at the opportune moment, and why Logan sounded so _tired_ and disappointed, instead of angry, when he reappeared. I like the idea of Janus revealing his name to Logan first very impulsively, and it went well enough that he decided to do it again, deliberately...and because _that_ went so badly, he lashed out nastily even for him. 
> 
> This is only my personal interpretation, of course: no more valid than anyone else's, because we don't actually know what happened.
> 
> Also, you should give Crazy, Mad, Insane a listen, because I swear it is the most Remus-y song that ever Remus-ed...


End file.
